Stoned
by macrauchenia
Summary: "A word and a stone once let go cannot be recalled" - Portuguese Proverb - After that unthinkable night and that unthinkable action, Morgana is now unstoppable. Emrys has fallen, and Camelot is soon to follow. Without his closest ally, Arthur is powerless to stop the magical triumvirate of Moragana, Morgause, and Mordred. - Sequel or Supplement to "On Stone Knives and Silence" -
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Stoned  
**Rating: **T - This one's pretty dark: character deaths, blood, angst, reveal, various character!whump. It has all of the same warnings that OSKaS had  
**Timeframe/Info About This Fic: **Takes place between Season 3 and 4; directly after the events in OSKaS;_ **I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU READ "ON STONE KNIVES AND SILENCE" BEFORE READING THIS** _- but it isn't required that you do. It'll just basically explain everything. So, no big deal.  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned Merlin... But I don't. You're welcome.  
**Authors Note: ****_READ "OSKAS" FIRST_  
**Anyway, I've decided to continue this into a full story. Beware.  
If you didn't read OSKaS, here's a brief recap. Merlin was sacrificed by Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred. Since they killed him, they have an infinite supply of awesome magic. Arthur and his band of knights have to save Camelot. Oh, and Merlin's dead. Just to let you know xD

* * *

The dull sun hesitantly poked its head up from the forest, warming Arthur's severely chilled bones. He had refused to move from that spot, cradling the freezing body of his broken friend all night long. Arthur knew he too probably felt and looked like death, but his heart was still beating, although every pound ached as he remembered the night's events. Merlin, dead. Merlin, a magician. Morgause, Morgana, and Mordred, infinitely powerful. The only person who had a sliver of a chance of stopping them was as pale as snow, his blood now flowing through those monsters' veins, powering them with the boy's stolen life and magic. Morgana finally got what she wanted—it was only a matter of time before Camelot would fall. His spirit was broken, and so was _Emrys._

This revelation, that his friend was once the most powerful sorcerer to have ever walked the Earth, shocked Arthur beyond belief. It also made him feel betrayed, but Arthur knew Merlin would feel betrayed if he allowed himself to curse the boy magician's name so soon after his death.

It took a great deal of effort, but Arthur ripped himself away from the thoughts of his fallen manservant. They had been friends for over a third of Arthur's life. Arthur knew he should mourn the boy as a friend and ally, but he also had a duty to Camelot as Prince Arthur. Crying any longer over the dead would only buy Morgana the time she needed to completely take Camelot without any resistance. If Arthur hurried, though he knew he was horribly lost in this cursed forest, he might be able to warn his home kingdom before the invasion. Or at least he could let his people know what cruel thing was to happen. Perhaps they could escape with their families and live somewhere safer, although Arthur knew the lives of he and his knights were soon to be limited.

Arthur knew it would be easier to leave Merlin's body in the clearing, but he was unable to part with his friend. Knowing all that the boy did for him in the past, it was the least Arthur could do by taking his body back to Gaius, Gwen, and his other friends. Arthur stifled a groan as he struggled to his feet. His bones were stiff, and his body was weary. Suppressing more pained moans, Arthur bent down to pick up the cold body of his friend. He grunted in shock as he hefted the boy into the air; he knew Merlin was always skinny, but he seemed impossibly light now. Arthur nearly dropped the boy when his hand brushed a bloody patch on his manservant's back. The sticky, cool liquid made bile rise in Arthur's throat, but he forced it back down. Arthur was just about to leave when something caught in the corner of his eye.

The stone knife. One of the glassy jewels on the hilt glinted in the pale morning sun. Still holding Merlin in the crooks of his elbows, he reached out slowly for the knife. He poked at it, jerking his hand away as if it had burned him. In a way, it had. _That's the blade they _butchered_ Merlin with. I ought to leave it there to rust for eternity. _Even though that's what Arthur really wanted to do, he knew that blade was their only hope for destroying Morgana and her magical posse. It gave her the power—and Arthur was fairly sure there was a way it could take it away. He didn't know how it would help, seeing he was as magically inclined as the closest tree, but he was praying someone knew enough about magic to find a solution. Swallowing more bile in his throat, he grabbed the still bloody knife with trembling hands and forced it in a pocket. The hilt stuck out ostentatiously, and the blade would occasionally push into his skin, but he didn't care.

Arthur only cared about stopping Morgana.

* * *

He didn't know how long he was walking. The sun was now high in the sky, beating on the boy mercilessly with its burning rays. He half wondered if Morgana was behind it, determined to manipulate weather itself to make him suffer more. His stomach was growling so loudly he was sure he'd attract some random beast or a traveling vagabond. The last time he had eaten was early the day before—just before they had set out on their fateful journey. The events of the night before had taken away his appetite, but now he couldn't deny his stomach. His mouthand throat were also burning from thirst. Each swallow felt like he was swallowing glass, and his tongue felt like it was made of sandpaper.

A sound caused him to freeze. It sounded like an inhuman groan. Arthur listened closely, and then his parched mouth broke into a smile for the first time in a long time.

_That's the river. The one we traveled by._ Arthur was sure of it. Putting an extra stride to his step, the young prince quickly followed the sound. After a minute of searching, he finally found the tiny spring.

"It sounded so much bigger than that," he murmured, glancing down at the dead weight in his arms. It was less painful to pretend that Merlin was merely sleeping. It also made Arthur feel better about his sanity when he addressed the dead boy. His arms ached from holding the lifeless magician. Although Merlin was light, Arthur was weakening quickly, his strength and determination failing him for one of the first times in his life. The prince feared that if he set Merlin down, he wouldn't have the will to pick him back up. However, Arthur needed water and decided to trust himself to keep his promise to not let the boy down. He lowered his former manservant gently to the ground with a grunt.

Once the boy was resting peacefully on the soft grass, Arthur straightened up and stretched his sore and cramped limbs with relieved sighs. Next, he squatted by the bubbling spring, taking huge handfuls of water, nearly choking himself once or twice. A youthful and teasing voice played through his mind, saying what Merlin would have said if he was still alive. Arthur smiled ruefully as he splashed his dirty face with the cool water. After his throat was soothed, the prince began to watch the blood off of his hands. He knew that the stains would never come out in his memories, but it made him feel better to see no crimson on his skin. Then he washed off the stone blade, careful not to cut himself again on the horrid knife. Not quite wanting to leave yet, Arthur decided to wash out his friend's wounds. It was pointless, since the memories would scar him for the rest of his life, however short it would be, but Arthur needed something to do, else he would begin to think again.

Arthur gently pulled off the blood stained scarf and the extra layer he had provided, leaving behind a brown, crusted mess. Holding back enraged screams, Arthur dipped the brittle scarf in the cool stream. He watched numbly as tiny mahogany and crimson streams mingled with the cool, slightly blue brook. Bringing out the dripping rag, he lightly dabbed off the crusted blood from the sorcerer's wounds. It was extremely painful when he had to clean the wound over the boy's heart, but Arthur swallowed his distress, pretending that it was a random soldier he was fixing, not his best friend. The future king of Camelot wanted to stop soon after he started, but he forced himself to finish cleaning out the wounds. Afterwards, he ripped off shreds from his own priceless clothing and wrapped them around the boy's exposed neck and chest. Merlin's shirt was a lost cause, and it would remain as a puzzling marker to visitors to the stream. However, he was unable to part with the scarf, tucking it away in his pocket to be buried with the boy later.

Arthur decided that it was time to resume his journey back to Camelot. He took one last gulp of the cool water, stood up stiffly, and stretched with a small sigh. He bent down to pick up his manservant, his arms screaming with protest as he lifted him into the air. Arthur ignored the dull pain of sore muscles as he continued down the road. If he followed the babbling brook beside him, he would be in Camelot within a day. He couldn't afford to waste time when any second, Morgana could release her rage and newly stolen powers on the kingdom.

* * *

Sir Leon had been a member of the party that was attacked by the magically possessed bandits. Somehow he had been able to escape with barely a scratch, but others were not so lucky. Two men had died in the attack, and many more were injured, some worse than others. Strangely enough, Sir Leon thought they had gotten off relatively easy. Only five minutes into the battle, after hearing someone scream (the knight had a sick feeling he knew who it was, but he couldn't say for sure since _he_ wasn't among the casualties), the rest of the enchanted forces seemed to pull back. They dropped their cursed weapons and melded back into the trees. They disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind the tattered knights of Camelot to put themselves back together again.

Five people were unaccounted for. Normally, Leon would not be as worried as he currently was. Since Arthur gave the order to retreat, it was very possible that they would regroup with the other men eventually on the way back home. However, it was unsettling to Leon that the man who gave the order was one of the missing men. The knight knew his future king; although Arthur would have called a retreat, it wasn't like him to follow his own order. Coupled with the fact that a certain manservant was also among the missing, it did not look good for those two. Sir Leon's gut twisted as he thought of possible scenarios that would lead to a missing prince. He half hoped that Prince Arthur had been kidnapped (and Merlin taken along as well as an unlucky bystander), since that would mean that the prince and his servant would most likely still be alive. It was pointless to try to ransom off a body, even if it was royal.

Since their prince and leader was missing in action, responsibility fell to Sir Leon to lead the battered remains of the once most feared knights of the Five Kingdoms. His first order was to set up camp in that same bloody clearing. Although they ran the risk of the bandits coming back, there were too many factors that demanded they remained there. Multiple knights had sustained serious wounds that were stabilized at the moment, but it was very likely those wounds could be reopened if they traveled. Sir Elyan in particular had taken a deep slice to the thigh, while Percival just had a crossbow bolt removed successfully from his shoulder. Gwaine was also nursing a blow to the head, although the courageous knight often remarked that it was nothing compared to his typical hangovers.

Sir Leon also wanted to stay in the same place for the faint hope that one of the missing men would return to that clearing. Although Leon trusted his future king to be more than capable of finding the way back to Camelot, if he was injured, they would be there to aid him.

At the moment, Sir Leon was on guard duty in front of the fire. Seeing as he was the least wounded, something that he and his fellow knights still had trouble understanding, he volunteered to watch over their makeshift campsite for the night. Leon sat silently by the fire, keeping his own personal vigil for the dead and their missing prince. Suddenly a branch snapped behind him; it was too big of a sound to be an animal. Sir Leon surged to his feet, sword drawn and ready.

"Declare yourself," he whispered loudly. He didn't want to alert the camp, but he wanted to still sound forceful.

There was no answer, but a bulky figure crashed into the clearing. Leon squinted to see who it was in the twilight gloom. His mouth fell open slightly as he realized it was Prince Arthur, looking rather distressed, but alive nonetheless.

"Sire!" Leon's gaze traveled down to what the prince was cradling in his arms. The faithful knight felt something drop heavily in his stomach. He rushed to Arthur, looking down at the boy Arthur was holding. _He's so pale… And so still…_ Leon reached out to take the manservant from his future king.

"Here, we can get him help. Let me take him so you can rest," he offered, laying a single hand on Merlin's exposed shoulder. Sir Leon could not suppress the shudder that racked his body. _He's so cold…_

For the first time, the knight could see the tears brimming in Arthur's eyes, and the telltale stains of blood covering their clothes. Arthur's grip on the boy tightened so greatly that if the boy had been conscious, he would have cried out in pain. He refused to hand the body over to Sir Leon.

"It's no use," Arthur's whisper was hoarse.

* * *

Immediately, Leon ushered his future king to the nearest tent. He did not want to wake up any of his fellow knights just so they could see this broken sight. After much persuading, Arthur finally released the battered body of his manservant, lying the boy down on an unused cot. Sir Leon pulled up two chairs, and the future king slowly lowered himself into one of them. Whatever Arthur and Merlin had been through, Leon was certain it was of stuff made from nightmares. He gently asked the prince if he was injured in any way.

Arthur shook his head. "No, I'm fine." His rumbling stomach betrayed him. Sir Leon quickly excused himself to retrieve food for his future king. When he returned with a meal, Sirs Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival came with him. All three refused to look at Merlin, but it was clear that they knew he was dead. Tears were actually glistening in Gwaine's eyes, while even Percival looked completely dejected. Sir Leon handed Arthur the hard bread and salty meat, murmuring apologies for the lack of quality. However, Arthur was too ravenous to care as he tore into the bread and meat with gusto. Within a minute, there was no trace of the poor meal. Elyan offered Arthur a glass of water, which the young man took with a thank you and downed it in one gulp.

An uncomfortable silence settled on the group. The knights were afraid to bring ask the question; Arthur was afraid of answering the question. Finally, Gwaine, who had been staring at his dead best friend for most of the time, broke the silence.

"What the _hell_ happened?!" He burst out angrily. His fury shocked everyone, and Sir Leon was about to chastise the more inexperienced knight.

Instead of looking offended though, Arthur sighed sadly and dove into what had happened. He began with the battle, seeing Merlin being impaled by the strange sword and the boy's abduction. When Arthur mentioned Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred, the knights' faces morphed into various expressions of distaste and rage. Arthur's voice wavered slightly on the part about Merlin being Emrys, but he was able to continue the story. He was forced to pause when he got to the climax of the sacrificial ritual, taking deep breaths to calm his anger and pain. Then, he finished up the story with a flat, emotionless voice, ending with meeting Leon at the edge of the forest.

Silence roared through the tent for the longest time. Each knight had different reactions to Merlin's slaughter and Morgana's greed for power. Sir Leon looked furious, his face taking on a reddish hue. Elyan was speechless, shocked eyes flitting back to Merlin every so often, but never dwelling for long on the body. Percival's face had simply fallen somewhere during the story. The large man had never looked so broken before. Gwaine had the most peculiar expression on his face. He was trembling with rage, but his face was strangely controlled. He jerked to his feet and staggered to Merlin. He ripped the bindings on Merlin's wounds savagely. When his eyes fell on the large slash across the sorcerer's neck and the hole in his chest, an almost animal like cry was nearly pulled from his throat. He was able to suppress it before it came, but it caused him visible pain to swallow the scream.

"She _must_ pay for what she did." Each word was shaking.

After telling what had happened, Arthur had fallen unusually silent. He was picking at the frayed end of Merlin's scarf. Elyan frowned, noticing a bulge in the cloth.

"Is something in there?" he asked, his voice barely breaking above a whisper.

Slowly Arthur unwrapped the hidden package before the knights' wide eyes. He extracted the gleaming, gilded stone knife from its makeshift home. He held it up, not even feeling the need to explain what it was.

"We need to figure out how to stop Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred," he started in a curiously brave voice. "If we don't, Camelot will fall to her."

"For Merlin," Gwaine murmured. Finding out that his best mate was a magician certainly was surprising, but Gwaine had always known there was something special about the young boy. He truly had to have been gifted in some way to be able to stand the royal princess. Never could have Gwaine ever assumed his clumsy little friend had been the most powerful being on Earth though. Still, it felt fitting that they would be fighting for him. For so long, he had saved them—bringing them back from impossible situations, and risking his own life for them more times than Gwaine could count. It was the least they could do for him. Besides, like hell he was going to allow Morgana to take over Camelot through using Merlin's stolen magic.

The other knights agreed with him. They too murmured their assent.

"For Merlin."

* * *

**Hey...? Like it? Hate it? Lemme know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Stoned  
**Rating: **T - This one's pretty dark: character deaths, blood, angst, reveal, various character!whump. It has all of the same warnings that OSKaS had  
**Timeframe/Info About This Fic: **Takes place between Season 3 and 4; directly after the events in OSKaS;_**I HIGHLY SUGGEST YOU READ "ON STONE KNIVES AND SILENCE" BEFORE READING THIS**_- but it isn't required that you do. It'll just basically explain everything. So, no big deal.  
**Disclaimer:** If I owned Merlin... But I don't. You're welcome.  
**Authors Note: **Thanks to everyone who read, alerted, and favorited this! :D Special thanks for **DarthZ** and **brinaynay** for leaving wonderful reviews!  
(If you didn't read OSKaS, here's a brief recap. Merlin was sacrificed by Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred. Since they killed him, they have an infinite supply of awesome magic. Arthur and his band of knights have to save Camelot. Oh, and Merlin's dead. Just to let you know xD)

* * *

Arthur's sleep was fitful that night. Continuous nightmares racked his brain with horrible images. He tossed and turned, but could not find the relief of a deep sleep. He almost pitied Morgana and her similar plague of bad dreams. It was enough to drive someone insane. The worst thing about the nightmares was that they seemed to be retelling the story of Merlin's slaughter, but in more detail. Although the things that appeared new for the first time were seemingly unimportant, it still caused Arthur pain to watch the bigger picture. He was unable to focus on the details—even though deep in his heart, he knew they had to have some importance somewhere.

_A youthful scream. A useless sword. Plunged, so deep in his gut. Brown leaves in the springtime. Merlin's expression. Excruciating pain. Brown leaves. Anger. So much anger._

The thoughts were in bits and scraps, roaming blindly through Arthur's sleep deprived mind at teasing speeds—slow enough to cause pain, but too fast to truly understand.

_Where is he taking Merlin? I have to. Follow him. Can't stop. Is Merlin alive? Can't stop. Silver butterfly. It follows me. Follow him. Can't stop. Morgana. Tired. Can't stop._

Arthur twisted and turned in the raggedy blanket they had wrapped him up in. It certainly wasn't the best, but at the moment, it was the only thing fit for a future king of Camelot. Arthur gasped as the heat from the blanket became almost unbearable. It was so hot that he wanted to rip the smothering sheet off, but he couldn't break free from it.

_Stone table. Merlin's alive. Merlin's a sorcerer. Powerful sorcerer. Morgana wants his blood. The stone knife. Shiny stone knife. Two rubies, one sapphire, and one emerald. One stone he had never seen before. Stings. Crimson drops on his arm._

In his nighttime fit, Arthur somehow managed to struggle out of the suffocating covering. The icy air hit him like a knife, instantly chilling the beads of sweat that dotted his shivering body. This nearly brought him out of his half sleep, but he was so consumed by the nightmare that he could not escape until he saw the end.

_Stone knife. The mysterious stone. Rubies look like blood. So much blood. Where's Merlin's scarf? So much blood. So much anger. Merlin, dying. The mysterious stone. Too much blood._

Arthur whimpered slightly in his sleep, but no one came to comfort him. They knew that it was best for the prince to face these demons alone. They also knew that they too would be having the same night terrors if they heard when he had to say. They would never be able to get those images out of their heads either.

_So much blood. Merlin isn't moving. The mysterious stone. Stone knife. Golden cup. Bloody smile. Merlin isn't moving. So much anger. Can't stop. Morgana. Hate. Fury. Death. Gone. All of them. Gone._

This last batch of fleeting memories finally forced the future king to wake up. He jerked into a sitting position, breathing heavily as the last memory slowly faded away to oblivion. He glanced at the tangled blanket that had accidentally bound his legs together. Slowly, he reached down and freed his trapped limbs with a slightly trembling hand. Everything was slick with his sweat, so it took a bit more time and maneuvering than he had expected. Finally completed with the task, he settled back into the makeshift bed, unsure if he wanted to sleep again or not. Arthur's drooping eyelids told him to risk it.

Fortunately, he was not plagued by nightmares the second time. His first ordeal with them had exhausted him so greatly that he fell instantly into a deep sleep. No gory pictures flitted through his mind; no tiny details appeared to him.

* * *

Arthur was dreading the return to Camelot for several reasons. The first was that if Morgana had truly invaded in the short span of a few days—which she certainly now had the powers needed to pull off such a feat in such a small bit of time—they surely would be riding to their inevitable dooms. _It almost would be easier if that was the case. _

The second reason dealt with "most important guest" to the fatal "party" hosted by the two witches and the warlock. He did not relish explaining to his father that they had been harboring a very powerful warlock for the past couple of years, nor did he want to tell him that Emrys was once right under his nose. The third reason was the results of the sacrifice. Uther's former ward was currently invincible and out to raze Camelot to the ground. There were just some things that never should be said to Uther. The forth reason dealt solely with Merlin. He didn't was to see the other's reactions, he didn't want to bury his friend, and he didn't was to be forced into slandering Merlin's name unwillingly.

Arthur didn't know if he was disappointed or relieved to see the white walls of Camelot sitting safely on their majestic perch, red and gold flags soaring proudly. He knew as a prince he should be overjoyed to find his kingdom untouched by Morgana's deadly talon. But knowing that it was only a matter of time before she attacked made the peace seem so fragile and the hope seem so false. There was no way to stop the deadly trio of sorcerers, and he just wanted the attack to come so they wouldn't fear it for days in advance. He was torn between informing the people or lying about the whole thing to keep them content and in the dark.

As he and the knights "clipclopped" over the lowered drawbridge, loud cries of joy echoed around him. Arthur grimaced, already feeling the crushing effect of his untold lie. He waved to the people like he had been trained to since birth, but there was no heart in his action. They slowly dragged themselves into the welcoming gates of the castle, the entire party now seeming to be weighed down by the dangerous knowledge they possessed. Arthur dismissed most of his men, ordering them to get a long rest, spend time with their families, and prepare. A predictable few refused to leave his side, and decided to forsake their own personal wants for the needs of their future king.

Uther swept down the steps, proudly grinning at his son. He had yet to realize that there was sorrow in their steps and worry in their eyes. Uther only had eyes on his returned son; the lost prince who had went missing after a horrible raid and now was home. It never occurred to Uther that one of his greatest friends had lost his own "son" to this ordeal.

Arthur refused to look in Gaius's direction. He was sure the old man was craning his neck to try to find his grinning ward and son. "We have returned, Father."

Something was slightly off to Uther, but he couldn't place it. "So you have," Uther grabbed his son's shoulder and rattled it proudly. "So you have." When Arthur winced at the action, the king finally started to see the slipping masks all around him. He finally figured out what had been strange about his son's return. There had been no bumbling idiot standing beside the prince. Since he had assigned that demented boy to be Arthur's manservant all those years ago when he somehow managed to save his life, he had never seen the two apart except for in extreme cases. "Where is your foolish manservant, Arthur?" Uther tried to make it sound like he didn't care. However, he too felt a slight bit of worry. Although he would never admit it, he had grown to enjoy the boy's afflicted mind, even though it was completely impertinent.

Arthur's eyes dropped to the ground. "Merlin's dead," he murmured. He peeked up to glance at Gaius and felt his heart twist even sharper into knots. The old man was staring at their hastily covered wagon with a horrorstruck expression. The court physician connected the dots quickly; there had been no covered cart when they left a few days ago—it had to have been made to cover up something from view when they reached Camelot. Gwen was standing next to Gaius, practically supporting the doctor, who had seemed to simply collapse against her. Tears brimmed in her dark eyes as she searched Arthur's blank face for any sort of explanation. The somber expressions of her brother and the other remaining knights only further confirmed her fears. A single tear leaked from her eye, snaking its way down her dark face and dripping off of her cheek, leaving behind a single gray stain on the ground below.

"Bandits?" Uther was surprised. He had seen the two come back from much more extreme with hardly a scratch.

_It's the moment of truth. _Arthur paused for a moment, sighed, and then shook his head. "Morgana."

Uther's eyebrows lowered dangerously, and Arthur instantly regretted telling the truth to his father. Knowing his former ward and daughter was behind another evil scheme only hurt Uther. It did not enrage him, as he usually would be when told of a vengeful sorcerer. Instead, the king looked very tired all of a sudden, the scar on his forehead standing out violently against the man's pale skin.

"Would this be something that you wish to tell me alone?" Uther whispered. He forced a smile onto his face so he would not alert his people that something was wrong. Even though he knew the reason for this, Arthur still felt partly betrayed.

He glanced around at the curious faces peering at him. Many of them hadn't been able to hear when Arthur whispered Merlin's fate. They only knew that their prince was back home. Arthur decided to go against his usual gut feeling of wanting to inform the people of any danger, and instead nodded. "It'll be best if I told you alone."

The king nodded stiffly and turned around, robes sweeping elegantly behind him. He started off proudly up the stairs, his dejected son trailing beyond him. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur could see his most trusted knights following him like lost puppies. When Uther had disappeared through the heavy doors, Arthur twisted his body slightly so he could look them in the eye more comfortably.

"Go see Gaius," he said. "Many of you are injured."

Sir Gwaine rudely said something that had the King of Camelot heard him, his new residency would be the stocks. Sir Elyan agreed with him, but with not so colorful words. Sir Percival merely nodded. His injuries were not so bad that he could still aid the prince, that nod seemed to say.

Arthur was touched, but he knew this was something he had to do alone. "I said, go see Gaius for your injuries," he ordered in a stern and dangerous voice.

The other knights now decided it was best not to argue with him. Even Gwaine cowed slightly under the prince's brutal glare. Sir Leon, however, was the only one who believed he was the exception to this demand.

"My Lord, I am not injured," he started uncertainly. "Surely you must want someone to escort you to your Father's chambers…?"

Arthur hesitated, and shook his head for a third time. "No, I do not need the assistance." His voice had softened. Many of the viewing commoners had drifted off once their king had disappeared. "Please, just go to Gaius's." Even though he was addressing Sir Leon, he was obviously talking to them all. "Help break it to him and Gwen." Arthur thought for a moment. "And Sir Lancelot." The knight had been incapacitated by an accidental training exercise and had been denied the "privilege" to accompany them on the hunting trip. _Some privilege. _The gallant knight had insisted that he was fine enough to go along, but Arthur refused to let him, standing firm on his belief that an injured knight had no place on a hunting trip for fun. The prince wondered briefly if having one of the best fighters in Camelot with them would have prevented certain things, but Arthur quickly banished the "what ifs" from his mind. What was done was done. "Tell them what happened." He hesitated again. "The _whole_ truth."

"Yes, My Lord," Sir Leon ducked his head respectfully and backed up. He and the remaining injured knights took their leave and went to the court physician. All four of them were dreading the awful reaction that the three would have once they told them what had really caused Merlin's death. It was beneath a knight's dignity to draw straws, but it was a very tempting concept at the moment.

Arthur turned back around, leaving them to decide for themselves. Taking a deep breath, he followed his father's footsteps back into the castle, ignoring the polite and faint cheering that swirled around him.

* * *

Arthur expected his father's reaction to the story to be anger. However, he was not prepared to as to whom the king was angry at. Instead of being furious at Morgana, he was mad at Arthur and Merlin. Although he was mad about Morgana's new growth in power and her intentions, he was more furious at the method by which she got it, including the person that was sacrificed to give her the invincibility.

"You're telling me that that boy was secretly a sorcerer?" The king roared. "He was in my _house_ for these past years and you _didn't tell me_?"

"Father!" Arthur objected. "I didn't even know that Merlin was a sorcerer until Morgana told me."

"How could you not have noticed?" He snarled "He has been your manservant for over _five _years. Surely the sorcerer must have done something that would have tipped you off. If you were a bit more observant—"

Arthur suddenly was tired of his father's yelling. "Merlin was forced to hide his magic from me!" He interrupted. "If you didn't kill every sorcerer that entered Camelot, he would have told me." _Would Merlin have told me…?_

"This proves how dangerous sorcery is, Arthur!" Uther shouted back. "If I had been less lenient on magic, this never would have happened. Your manservant should not have come to Camelot if he feared for his life. Because he did come to Camelot, we are now at the brink of collapse!"

"You can't put the blame on Merlin, Father! Morgana is the one who did this. It is she who we fear. He suffered at _her _hand! Merlin has never done anything that would put us in harm!"

A doubtful chuckle was ripped from the king. "You have proof? The hearts of sorcerers are all the same. That boy was probably trying to take the throne of Camelot for himself." Uther peered down at his son with a suspicious look. "Who knows what he was able to sway you into doing. You've been a puppet for that boy for the la—"

"Merlin has saved my life more times than I can count!" Arthur insisted. "If I did ever catch him using magic, I would probably have…turned a blind eye…" The murmured words were out of Arthur's mouth before he could stop them.

"_What_!?" A red vein had begun to pulse dangerously in the king's temple. "_What did you say you would do?"_

Feeling a surge of fool's courage, Arthur looked directly into his father's eyes. "Merlin never used his magic for evil," he repeated. "He only used it to save me and Camelot. If he was caught, I would try to save him from execution. It would be the least he deserved."

This was too much for the king. "This _defending_ of a _sorcerer_ only proves to me that you have been possessed by him. Clearly his enchantment on you has not yet passed, despite his death."

"No! Merlin would _never_ enchant me!"

"We must burn his body so that all remnants of his magic will be destroyed." Worry flickered briefly through the king's eyes as he regarded his son. "We must set fire to his corpse immediately before Morgana attacks. I cannot have you trying to throw the battle while your mind is possessed by this dead sorcerer's curse." An ugly sneer rose on Uther's face as he referred to Merlin. He swept past his son, calling for a humongous wooden spit to be built without delay.

Arthur gritted his teeth, prepared to argue until the breath left his body. However, time was running out, and he realized that shouting with perhaps the most stubborn man in history was not the best way of preserving his friend's memory. "Wait!" The king froze, but did not turn around to face his son.

_Please forgive me, Merlin. _"I want to be the one to end my curse," Arthur forced out in a cold voice. He nearly choked over his own lie. "But delay the burning of his body for now. We must focus instead on defeating Morgana, Morgause, and Mordred."

Uther scrutinized his son with narrowed eyes, searching for any kind of trap or trickery. "You now agree with me that your manservant was an evil and dangerous practitioner of sorcery?"

Arthur swallowed thickly. "I will lower the flame to his pyre myself."

Satisfied, Uther nodded and recalled the order to have the pyre built. He left the room without another glance at his son.

When the heavy doors of his father's chamber swung shut with a bang, Arthur felt all of his strength leave him. He sagged against his father's elegant bedpost, wondering what they were possibly going to do when his half-sister came. Never had he ever felt so alone.

* * *

Arthur found himself standing in front of Gaius's door, hard fist raised to knock. He steeled his mind for what he was about to walk into, and his fist came down on the wooden door with a loud boom. The hushed whispering that could be faintly heard from within halted suddenly. Slowly the door creaked open, and Arthur found himself staring at a very surprised Sir Leon.

"Sire?" Surprised eyebrows rose. "Is something wrong?"

_More wrong that Merlin's death and Morgana's unstoppable invasion? _"It is only a matter of time before Morgana gathers the courage to finally strike Camelot. We must prepare." Slowly the gaunt faces of the other knights appeared behind Sir Leon.

Leon nodded. "I understand." The man's gaze flitted tentatively to Gaius, the bulky form of the physician looming over the prone figure on the faraway cot, his back to the knights. Gwen was sitting on the edge of the boy's bed, dabbing at her eyes every so often. She stared at her beloved's face, and Arthur could tell that she was grateful that her prince had returned relatively unscathed. The girl's shoulders slumped, and Arthur could read her thoughts as plainly as if she had said them. _Morgana must pay for what she has done._

"I—" Arthur faltered before continuing strongly. "I understand if many of you fear Morgana's new power. And I understand if you do not wish to fight her, especially after seeing what she has…done. I will not judge any of you if you wish to leave Camelot before the battle. You will not be branded as cowards."

Lancelot pushed himself off of the closest cot and hobbled to the door, favoring his left leg. "Sire, I would like to help." He paused, struggling to find the right words. "And I will lay down my life to stop Morgana and her evil intentions." _And avenge Merlin. _"I know I am not at my best, but it will have to do."

Arthur nodded, not trusting himself to say a word. The other knights each gave their own swears of loyalty. Each new promise made it harder for Arthur to breath. He shook each of their hands and thanked them for their courage. He turned his gaze to Gwen and Gaius, but instantly drew it away. It would be unfair to ask for their help.

Gaius gave the prince a broken smile. "I may be just an old man, but I'll do anything you need me to do, Sire."

"Thank you, Gaius," Arthur returned with his own relieved smile. The future king rested a comforting hand on Gaius's shoulder before letting it slip off. "Your help will be greatly appreciated." He turned to leave with the rest of his knights.

"Am I not allowed to help because I'm a woman?" Gwen crossed her arms and tried to force an offended expression on her pale face.

"Guinevere!" Elyan was shocked at his sister's frankness with their future king. "_You_ are going to go to the forest and stay safe until we come to get you."

Gwen's cocked a brow at her brother; Arthur could see that sibling rivalry never truly did die. "You aren't the boss of me, Elyan." She turned to plead her case to Arthur. "I've participated in dozens of battles, My Lord, and never have they truly meant something to me as much as this one. It would be cruel to not let me play a part."

"I suppose if I don't let you participate, you'll steal a sword and fight on the front line."

"That is correct, Sire."

Arthur sighed, knowing very well that the girl wasn't bluffing. "Very well," he said, ignoring Elyan's protests. "You will help Gaius in the hospital." She held her hand out as the other knights had done, and he engulfed the slender offering with his own sweaty hand. "I know you want to fight, but you must aid him. He probably took this harder than any of us." He lightly squeezed her warm hand.

Guinevere nodded, her brown eyes still glistening. "Be careful," she whispered.

"Don't worry about me," Arthur gave her hand another squeeze before letting it slowly slip from his grasp. Most of the other knights shifted uncomfortably, feeling as if they were intruders to this private moment. Oddly enough, Elyan was the only one who seemed oblivious to the romance. It was a good thing, seeing as if the young knight had known about the affair, Morgana's job would have become much easier. However, the dark knight was starting to be a bit suspicious of his king's lingering "handshake."

"My Lord, I have a que—"

Just then the room shuddered as the entire castle was blasted with a magical burst. Various bottles and vials toppled, falling from their lofty perches and smashing on the stone floor. Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur noticed an orangish-red liquid that dribbled into the path of a deep blue serum. When the two potions mixed, they foamed and formed a lilac hued liquid. Arthur was about to ask if that was something they should be concerned about, when another magical explosion rocked the room.

Morgana was attacking.

* * *

**Bum bum BUM! Thanks for reading! :D**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Merlin. Merlin belongs to Merlin (I guess the original beardy Merlin...? And I'm not talking about Dragoon) and BBC  
**Authors Note: **Thank you so much to everyone who's still reading this. It's about to take a pretty deep turn, so watch out. This is where it kinda gets a bit...urm, different.  
(Special thanks to **DarthZ, Authoressinhiding, MB the cat, **and especially to **Darkmiror!** Thanks so much guys! You all rock :D

* * *

The castle shuddered one more time before Arthur and his knights were down the hall. They skidded to a stop at cross-section where two corridors branched off. One led to the armory, while the other led back to the main castle. All of the knights except for Lancelot were still dressed in their fighting garb, but they had dropped off their weapons before seeing to Gaius. The faithful followers of Prince Arthur glanced around at themselves, waiting for orders from their future king. They could either rush immediately to where Morgana was attacking, or they obey any of the orders their prince was about to issue. Gwaine in particular shifted uncomfortably as they waited for Arthur to react.

Internally Arthur's mind was spinning in violent circles. The others still didn't quite grasp how powerful Morgana and the other two truly were now. They had only heard the stories; Arthur _lived_ the nightmare. If Arthur couldn't come up with a way to destroy the immortal monsters, he was going to be forced to watch as one by one his knights fell in front of him like stones. The worst part was that the prince couldn't think of anything that could possibly stop Morgana and her evil cohorts.

_The only one who would have known is de—_

"Sire…?" Sir Leon's hesitant voice broke through Arthur's thoughts. He blinked and forced himself to return to the hopeless situation at hand. When he saw that he had his leader's attention, Leon continued. "What do you wish us to do?"

Arthur swallowed. _It's time to make the decision. Now or never. _"Elyan, Gwaine, and you will go to the armory. Get whatever you can, and find the other knights. Get them as prepared as you can." Sir Leon nodded, and the three men instantly disappeared down the darker tunnel. He turned to Percival and a grimacing Lancelot, who was struggling to keep up due to his leg injury. "Percival, take Lancelot to the top of the battlements. Set him up with a crossbow or something." He stared directly into the injured knight's eyes, daring him to protest. "If I find out that you've tried to join the direct combat fighting, you won't have to worry about Morgana killing you."

Lancelot swallowed, deciding to hang the Knight's Code for a moment regarding "fighting despite any injury," and nodded. "I will do my best from up there, My Lord." Percival nodded as well, wordlessly assuring his future king that he too would protect Camelot—or die trying.

Arthur dismissed them with a curt "good luck," and watched as they tried to set off quickly towards the stairs. When Lancelot wasn't hobbling fast enough for the bear of a knight, Percival merely bent down and all but hoisted the protesting knight into the air and set off at a much faster pace. Arthur suppressed a chuckle, and then refocused on his job.

_I need to find a way to stop Morgana. _He painfully racked his brain for memories of that horrible night, trying to recall some repressed memory that would be the king to their undoing.

_The cup. The table. The spell. _Arthur cursed. He neither knew magic nor possessed either of the former two objects. Nearly giving up, the answer finally came to him with a painful flash of memory.

_ The knife. _For some strange reason, Arthur had chosen to take the brutal tool used to kill Merlin with him. He had no idea as to why he did it then, but now it was starting to make a fragment of sense. _It's the only way to stop Morgana, _he was sure of it. Ignoring the frantic calls of his name by random guards, Arthur dashed to his room as fast as possible.

Another shudder rocked the castle, throwing him to the ground. Arthur hit the stone floor with a grunt, scrambled back to his feet, and kept running. Glass shattered and furniture toppled as the screams and cries of his terrified people echoed around him. The future king steeled his mind against these pleads for mercy and kept up his breathtaking pace to his room.

By the time he made it to his room, Arthur was already exhausted, and he hadn't even begun to fight yet. Staggering in an almost somnambulatory manner to his bedside table, he quickly grabbed Merlin's crackled and stained scarf, and the knife safely wrapped inside. Not even wasting time to unwrap it, he stuck the entire fabric covered package in his pocket. He turned towards the window, almost casually, as if he were checking the weather, when Morgana's evil, glowing smile appeared. Arthur didn't even have time to curse properly before every single pane of glass exploded in a glistening, shrapnel shower. Glass rained down on the future king, tiny and long shards alike slicing his bare skin. He raised his arms and ducked his head to try to protect his vulnerable face, but it was no use. The glittering blades left no revealed skin untouched, as if they were magically enchanted to cut him in every way possible. Another gust of wind pushed the huddled prince backwards, smashing him roughly against the stone pillars in his room. He gasped as the air was forcefully knocked from his lungs, and he slid weakly to the ground. His back ached not only where it had connected with the wall, but also where the stone knife, despite its comfortable cushion, nicked into his flesh. Arthur grimaced as he looked up at his new visitor.

"Hello, brother."

* * *

Even while Percival was unceremoniously carrying him to the top of the castle's parapets, Lancelot was having second thoughts about following his prince's orders. He knew, deep down, that it was required that every knight serve his king (or future king) faithfully without ever questioning an order. However, Lancelot also knew that it was required for his honor and his conscience to protect Camelot and those who he swore allegiance to, despite the mortal danger it posed for him. It was very likely that he would be no longer among the living if he decided to fight the way that Arthur had forbidden him to, but he couldn't stand and watch as Camelot burned.

Especially after what those sorcerers had done to his friend.

Making a decision and sticking to it, Lancelot all but rolled out of Percival's arm. Catching the giant by surprise, Lancelot landed with a rather loud _bump_ on the stone floor. Struggling to his feet, Lancelot darted backwards to avoid being grabbed by Percival.

"I'm going to fight, Perc. Neither you nor Arthur can stop me."

Percival paused, and then nodded. "I understand." If he were in the same situation, he too wouldn't back down just because Arthur "suggested" that he take it easy, and refrain from fighting.

Lancelot gave a shaky smile to his friend when suddenly both of the knights were smacked with an invisible block. Percival staggered backwards, able to hang onto most of his precious balance, but Lancelot tumbled to the ground and skidded ungracefully across the stone floor. This time he was slower as he got back to his feet, even with Percival aiding him.

"It's one of them," he growled. Percival agreed with a firm nod, trying to find the shine of a black curl or the glint of Morgause's body armor. Instead they saw the flap of a blue cloak and the flash of a youthful smile that held no mercy.

Of the three in Arthur's story, neither of them had ever met Mordred in person. However, the dark crackle of powerful magic and the simultaneous shudder that ran down their spines informed the two young men that they were in the presence of one of Merlin's butchers.

"Mordred." The way Lancelot spat out the name was more of a statement then a question.

The young boy's smile merely lifted a bit higher, but not quite reaching the two haunting orbs of blue that served at his eyes. Instead of confirming the knight's name, his eyes merely glowed a horrid shade of gold tinged with crimson.

Percival, who had subtly been drawing his sword and was preparing to charge at the young boy, jerked backwards with a horrible gulp. He smashed so forcefully against the stone walls that the white rock cracked where his head had hit, leaving behind a stark red trail as the man slid to the ground with a groan.

Anger flared in Lancelot's gut to see his strongest friend beaten so. He lunged at the boy, managing to catch the gloating sorcerer off guard, slicing him across the shoulder. Mordred glared at the shred in his thick cloak, one of the corners of his mouth rising into a hateful sneer. His eyes flashed the same shade of gold, tinted with crimson, and Lancelot locked all of the joints in his body, preparing to be flying through the air at any moment. Instead, the light cut on the boy's shoulder sealed up, barely leaving a scratch. He returned his gaze back to the glaring knight.

"Why did you kill Merlin?" Lancelot demanded, raising his sword again. "Why?"

"It was the destiny of Emrys," the boy whispered, his voice sending shivers through Lancelot's bloodstream. Suddenly the injured knight couldn't breathe. His hands flew up to his throat, trying to pull away the invisible fists grasping his trachea. Through his watering eyes, Lancelot could see that the boy was smiling as he murmured some dark spell. He gasped twice more, trying to get just a mouthful of oxygen into his lungs, before the dull sound of something falling hit his ears.

By the time he realized that was his own limp body that had collapsed to the floor, the darkness finally overtook his own consciousness, and he was aware of nothing more.

* * *

The main fight outside the fortified walls of the citadel was not going well. After they had supplied as many men they could of the tools that were needed to stand a chance against their enemies, the three knights instantly threw themselves haphazardly into battle. With a terrified twist in his gut, Sir Leon noted that their enemies were the same bandits who had apprehended them a few days ago, before Merlin was slaughtered.

Their swords and crossbow bolts were completely useless against the magical, immortal army. Even though the knights of the Camelot outnumber their opponents two-to-one, the number of knights was dwindling quickly, while the immortal monsters only seemed to be getting more bloodthirsty.

"Fall back!" Sir Leon shouted to the tattered remains of his men. He shuddered at the déjà vu moment as his few, faithful knights circled around him. He did a quick head count of all of the hopeful faces staring at him, noting with a twist in his gut that the dark face of Elyan wasn't present.

Gwaine noticed too, his blank expression seeming to say _he knew the risks. _Sir Leon swallowed. They _all_ knew the risks. He glanced from side to side, trying to gain an accurate measure of the true bravery of all his men.

"Men, you have my permission to retreat. However," the leader of the knights hesitated, "if you chose to fight, your names will be honored throughout Camelot until the end of time." It was a suicide mission to keep fighting, and they all knew it. Without the sight of their future king for reassurance, many of the men shifted uncertainly, wondering how honorable it really was to die.

"I'm fighting," Gwaine almost snarled, pushing himself away from the cowards around him. "And you call yourselves knights," he murmured under his breath. Sir Leon and a few of the bravest also confirmed their will to fight, truly understanding what it meant to be a knight in Camelot, while the others slowly shifted away to the shadows. Throwing a thankful glance at the charming, and often drunk knight, Sir Leon raised his sword again, preparing to cry out his only and true kingdom's name.

The clatter of armor behind them caused the men to pause and turn around. Morgause, in her complete and stunning beauty again, smiled coyly at the famous knights.

"Morgause," Sir Leon glared at the witch, raising his sword in her direction.

The blond grinned triumphantly. "Sir Leon?" I'm surprised to see you aren't dead yet."

The blond knight narrowed his eyes as Gwaine forced himself into the conversation. "Why did you kill Merlin, you witch?" he growled.

Morgause simply smiled, shrugging her iron clad shoulders. "It was in our destinies." A whispered word danced across her tongue as her sword suddenly burst into flames. With another smirk, she launched herself at the two knights, eyes glowing yellow and red like the flames as they were suddenly immobilized.

* * *

_"Hello, brother."_

Arthur glared up at his half-sister from the floor. Small tiny rivers of blood trickled down his forehead, face, and arms from the shattered glass. He wasn't sure if it was anger or blood in his eyes that was giving everything a reddish tint.

"Morgana," he snarled. He tried to get up, but an invisible force was keeping him crushed to the floor. Arthur twisted under his magical bonds, hating the feeling of hopelessness he was feeling yet again.

The witch slowly floated through the imploded window and stepped daintily onto the fallen diamonds scattered across the floor. Each footstep she took crackled, causing Arthur's teeth to ache. She paused when she was halfway between the pinned prince and the window, glancing around with a look of mock surprise.

"I'm surprised to see no one with you. Usually you always have some idiot of a manservant trailing you around like a lost puppy." Arthur choked back furious shouts, throwing himself viciously against the bonds that secured him to the ground. Morgana watched her brother's reaction with an expression of twisted glee. "Oh, was that a touchy subject?" she pouted slightly with her lips pursed. She took another step towards Arthur, taking care to step on a few more pieces of broken glass. Arthur watched her approach, wishing he knew how to use magic at that moment so he could glare a hole through the witch.

"Why?"

"That's a rather broad question, Arthur." Morgana sounded almost bored. She picked slightly at her nails, waiting for the boy to get more specific.

"Why are you doing this?"

Realizing that the prince wasn't going to narrow down his question any further, Morgana sighed, as if explaining her plans to spoiled princes was the most excruciatingly boring thing to do.

"At first it was to get back at Uther for everything he's done to me and my people."

"Then why kill another sorcerer?"

Morgana smiled thinly at her half-brother. "I doubt you'd understand anything about destinies," Arthur suppressed the need to snort bitterly, "but Emrys was my destiny…and my doom. If I didn't strike first, well, Emrys might be the one talking to you right now."

_I'd definitely prefer that._ "So you killed Merlin to save your own skin? That's just like something _our_ father would do." Arthur was sure to stress the fact that they shared a common parent.

The dark haired witch's smirk morphed into a sneer. "Unlike Uther, I wasn't a fool. I didn't hesitate." She calmed herself suddenly, the furious expression softening back into a smile. "Besides, there were other _benefits_ to killing Emrys. I'm sure you can figure them out."

Arthur gritted his teeth. "When you're done gloating, kill me now. I won't beg for mercy, so you're wasting your time."

"But Arthur, I haven't told you all of the best parts yet. Do you know what Mordred and Morgause are doing that this moment?" Arthur felt something drop in the pit of his stomach. "I didn't know knights could bleed that much." The prince strained against his bonds. "And it is a nice turn of events to see your precious knights burn instead of my people," she sneered. "A little bit of justice in this unfair world."

_ "Morgana!"_

"Do you know where I went first?" Arthur didn't want to know. "First, I decided to visit the physician's chambers. Just to visit some old friends. You wouldn't believe who I saw there. A former future queen and an old sorcerer." Her next smile was incredibly malicious. "We won't have to worry about _Gwen_ stealing my throne now."

Arthur's breath was sucked in with a pained gasp. _No… Not Gwen too._ "You're lying!" he screamed at the smirking witch in front of him.

"Unfortunately I didn't have time to carve her and Gaius up as neatly as I did Merlin those few nights ago," Morgana carried on, seemingly ignoring her writhing brother. If she were paying more attention to her enemy and less to her triumphs, she would have noticed her magical bonds weakening. Arthur was finally able to move his arms and hands again, wrapping his trembling fingers around the stained stone knife concealed in Merlin's scarf.

"You seemed pretty upset when we killed him. I thought you would be pleased to have such a _dangerous_ sorcerer executed for his crimes of treason."

_The only one guilty of treason it _you, the prince snarled in his mind. Finally finding the strength to completely rip free from Morgana's magic, he launched himself at the oblivious witch. Her satisfied smirk was barely able to shift to an expression of utter horror as the stone knife was plunged deep into her chest, in the same exact spot that she had stabbed Merlin.

"What have you done!?" she shrieked, her terrified face morphing into a black expression. She didn't look frightened—she looked livid. Arthur twisted the knife deeper into her chest, wondering why she wasn't bleeding, and if he was truly able to kill her. Morgana pulled herself free from the knife's blade, holding a shuddering hand over where the puncture hole was supposed to be.

Arthur staggered backwards, the tumultuous events of the past few days finally starting to get to him. He forced his drooping eyes to remain open as Morgana continued to scream at him. Wind whistled around them, not unlike the way it did when they were about to sacrifice Merlin. The violent gusts caused his eyes to water and his cuts to sting, but he didn't dare to look away. His half-sister's eyes transformed from their normal gray, to a bright yellow, all the way to a crimson that was so dark it was nearly black. Her black lips were moving quickly, producing a terrible spell that would surely bring imminent doom to Camelot. Arthur was bracing himself for the finally words and the collapse of his kingdom, when everything abruptly stopped.

Everything went dark, and Arthur's world suddenly tipped on edge.

* * *

_"Will he be all right?"_

_ "He'll be fine."_

_ "Are you sure?"_

_ "Go get some water."_

At the mention of the refreshing liquid of life, Arthur felt himself savagely beat back the walls of the oppressive darkness. He pried open his eyes, wincing instantly at the bright light that flooded his sore pupils. Arthur hissed slightly, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

"Sire…?" The surprised and worried whisper sounded above Arthur's head. It sounded familiar. Arthur slowly peeked up at the person by his bed, gently sliding open his delicate eyelids. Relief flooded his system like a drug as he saw who it was.

_Gaius._ "I knew Morgana didn't kill you," he tried to say. All that got out was a dry croaking and a few syllables. Arthur swallowed, trying to wet his throat enough to repeat what he had said.

Even though he had no idea what the boy had said, Gaius smiled because of the prince's sudden awareness. "We're glad you're finally awake, Arthur."

_We…?_ Arthur struggled to remember what had happened. In an equally strong flood of dread and angst, Arthur was painfully reminded of Morgana's dark sacrifice and her attack on Camelot. The young prince jerked forward, only to be pushed back down gently by the old physician.

"You must _rest,_ Sire," the old man protested.

"Morgana!" Arthur's wild eyes darted around the room. He was thoroughly confused. The two were in Arthur's chambers, but everything looked exactly as it had _before_ Morgana had attacked. No glass was sprayed across the floor, and no furniture had fallen over. _What happened?_ "Where's Morgana?" He tried to jerk away from the doctor's hold. "She killed Gwen—she tried to kill the knights. She killed Mer—"

"Arthur!" Gaius worried shout broke through Arthur's panicked ramblings. "Gwen isn't hurt. Neither are any of your knights. Everything is fine." His placating whisper did little to calm the prince's nerves.

_What about Lancelot? What about Sir Leon and Percival? Elyan and Gwaine? Morgana said she killed them!_ Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Where is Morgana? She was here; she tried to kill us all."

Gaius exchanged glanced with someone who had just entered the room. Arthur couldn't see who they were, but he hoped they had answers. Or at least some water.

"Sire…" Gaius wasn't sure what to do with the hysterical prince. "I assure you, you are safe from Morgana. She cannot harm you."

Arthur shook his head. "You don't understand, Gaius. _She killed Merlin. I saw it!_"

Suddenly there was the sound of splintering china and splashing water. Whoever had been holding the jar of water just dropped it, shattering the vase into a million pieces. Arthur's and Gaius's gaze jerked instantly towards the newest addition to the group.

"That's not possible, Arthur. Morgana's dead." Arthur could barely believe his eyes as to who was standing in front of him. The pale boy, who Arthur thought he would never see again, trembled slightly, unsure of what his prince was saying.

"Morgana's dead," Merlin repeated, wide eyes watching Arthur carefully, "because you killed her, Arthur."

* * *

**So, uh, who else got kinda nervous there for a second? _I _did.  
Oh, yeah. That mind screw stuff I warned you guys about...?  
It starts NOW!  
(Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to all of you who wanted to see Arthur stab Morgana with the stone knife xD)**


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